Chapter VI: Preface (6)

This quotation may serve as a fitting transition to the times which we have now reached. We have now done with the age of building up, and we have come to the age of pulling down. At the end of the fifteenth century the church of Wells had reached its highest degree of perfection. The church was complete; its appurtenances were complete. Of the fabric itself it is enough to say that our great Beckington, so bountiful a benefactor to the city and diocese in every other way, did nothing to the actual fabric of the cathedral, because there was really nothing for him to do. My subject, you will remember, is the cathedral church, alike in its fabric and in its constitution. Had my subject been the city generally, I should have found something to say about the parish church, about the hospitals, about the Guild-hall, about Beckington's houses in the marketplace. But I keep myself to the cathedral and its immediate belongings. The destruction spoken of in the extract which I just before made from Godwin carries us on to the reign of Edward the Sixth. But I must first say a few words about the reign of Henry the Eighth. I must now once more call on you carefully to bear in mind the distinction between the regular and secular clergy, and between the cathedral churches served by each of them severally. In the course of the reign of Henry the Eighth all the monastic foundations in England were destroyed. Everybody knows this fact, but everybody does not put the fact in its right place. People talk of an event called the Reformation, as if it were a single event which happened in some one particular year, like the passing of the Reform Bill or the cutting off of Charles the First's head. No such event ever happened. A great many ecclesiastical changes took place in the course of the sixteenth century, but those changes did not happen all at once, and many of them had no immediate connexion with one another. Above all, do not fancy that an old Church was destroyed and a new Church founded; do not fancy that property was taken from one set of clergy and given to another set of clergy. Nothing of the sort ever happened. Great changes were made _in_ the Church of England, changes which, as some people at the time thought, went too far, and which, as other people thought, did not go far enough. But these changes in no way touched what we may call the personal identity of the Church before and after them. Remember that I am not talking theology but history. No one here will suppose that I, of all men, deny the power of Parliament to disestablish and disendow a Church, if it sees good reason to do so; I only say that, as a matter of fact, that power was not exercised by Parliament in the sixteenth century. Certain ecclesiastical changes were made; certain ecclesiastical foundations were suppressed; but the Church itself went on. The throwing off of the authority of the Bishop of Rome, the suppression of the monasteries, the introduction of the English Prayer-Book and Articles, were three different events, which happened at three different times, and which had nothing directly to do with one another. The monastic foundations accepted the King's supremacy just as fully as the secular foundations did, and, after the monasteries were suppressed, mass went on being said in the cathedral, collegiate, and parochial churches, just as it had been before. And let no one fancy that the two suppressions familiar to us in the reign of Henry the Eighth, the suppression of the lesser and of the greater monasteries, were the first cases of the suppression of ecclesiastical foundations known in England. The supreme power of the state in England has in all ages, as it has done in our own day, exercised that authority over the temporalities of the Church, which, in its own nature, it must exercise over everything. Cardinal Wolsey suppressed a number of small monasteries in order to transfer their endowments to his colleges at Ipswich and Oxford.[37] Before that, in the reign of Henry the Fifth, the Alien Priories, that is the monasteries which were dependent on monasteries in foreign countries, were suppressed by Act of Parliament.[38] The main difference is that in these cases monasteries were suppressed for good political reasons, and their revenues were applied to useful public purposes, while in the suppression under Henry and Cromwell all that was thought of was the scramble of the King and his courtiers for their own private pelf.[39] The most sickening havoc and sacrilege ran wild among the noblest and holiest fabrics of the land. We have but to go as far as Glastonbury, to see the desolation of the most venerable spot in Britain, to ask in vain for the burying-places of our Kings and heroes, and to look up to the height where the last Abbot of that great house won the martyr's crown rather than betray his trust and provide for his own enrichment and promotion by wilfully surrendering his church to the illegal bidding of the spoiler.[40]

But we have now chiefly to see how these various changes affected the constitution and position of our church of Wells. As Wells was a secular foundation, the suppression of the monasteries did not touch it at all; Glastonbury and Bath fell, but Wells went on just as it had done before. If anything, the church of Wells gained by the suppression, as it was thereby restored to the rank which it held before the days of John de Villulâ. As I have already said, the church of Bath was suppressed along with the other monasteries, and the Chapter of Wells was once more made, by an Act of Parliament in 1543, the sole Chapter of the Somersetshire Bishoprick.[41] It is undoubtedly true that, for three years, from 1537 to 1540, the Deanery was irregularly held by the King's favourite, Lord Cromwell, who, of course, as a layman, could not perform its duties.[42] This was a great abuse, but it was not altogether a new abuse. To search no further, earlier in Henry's reign the two Deaneries of Exeter and Wimborne had been held at once by the King's cousin, Reginald Pole, who was afterwards Cardinal and Archbishop, but who had not then taken holy orders. Reginald Pole was, to be sure, a theological student, a description which would hardly apply to Thomas Cromwell; still Pole could as little discharge the duties of Dean of Exeter as Cromwell could discharge those of Dean of Wells.[43] It was not till the reign of Edward the Sixth that the systematic picking and stealing from ecclesiastical bodies, as distinguished from their regular suppression, set in like a flood. The first instalment of destruction was indeed done in a regular and legal way. In his first year (1547), all chantries and colleges were suppressed, the cathedral chapters, the colleges in the Universities, and a few others only being spared.[44] The suppression of the chantries, where masses were said for the souls of particular persons, necessarily followed on the change of doctrine; but the general suppression of Colleges, which had the effect of destroying the capitular bodies at Beverley, Wimborne, and a crowd of other places, was sheer destruction, and not reformation. Then came the general plunder of Bishopricks, Chapters, and ecclesiastical bodies generally, which began under Edward, and went on again in a form one degree less shameless under Elizabeth. A Bishop was commonly bullied into exchanging the estates of his see for some pretended equivalent, commonly in the shape of impropriate tithes. No church suffered in this way more than that of Wells. William Barlow, who became Bishop in 1547, the first year of Edward the Sixth, was driven in the course of that year and the next to give up to Edward Duke of Somerset pretty well everything belonging to the see, including the palace of Wells itself, in exchange for a few rectories.[45] A large part of this property was lost for ever; but a good deal was recovered by Barlow himself after the Duke's execution, and by his successor Gilbert Bourne in the days of Queen Mary.[46] It is not easy for us to conceive that there was a time when the palace had ceased to be the house of the Bishop, and had become the dwelling of a lay nobleman. And when we remember that that lay nobleman, besides receiving endless estates elsewhere, was also the grantee and the destroyer of the Abbey of Glastonbury, we get a good specimen of the way in which the property of the Church was squandered away, not for the public good in any shape, but for the private enrichment of greedy courtiers. Of the other foundations in Wells, the Priory of Saint John had fallen in 1541. This, I should explain, though its chief officer bore the title of Prior, was not a monastery, but a hospital.[47] The college of Chantry-priests fell by the Act of 1547;[48] the plunderers then fell upon the property of the Chapter and of its individual members. The estates of the Deanery were swallowed up, and, in order to patch up a new endowment for the Dean, an Act was passed for the suppression of the offices of Provost and Sub-Chanter, the estates of which formed a new corps for the Deanery.[49] But as with the lands of the Bishoprick, so with those of the Deanery, a great part was recovered in the days of Queen Mary; so that, as the provostship and sub-chantership were never restored, I suspect that the Deans in the end gained by their spoliation. Some of the common possessions of the Chapter were also lost, and were partly recovered by Bishop Bourne, as also were the lands of the Archdeaconry; but the Archdeacon's house of which I have already spoken has remained alienated to this day.[50]

These are specimens of the spoliations, many of them positively illegal, all of them wrought, not for the public good but for private enrichment, which our Bishopricks, Chapters, and other ecclesiastical foundations underwent in the course of the sixteenth century. But at Wells these spoliations had an important effect on the constitution of the church. Legal cavils were raised as to the right both of the Chapter and the Vicars to their possessions. It was affirmed that the reconstitution of the Deanery had somehow involved the complete suppression of the Chapter. Both the Chapter and the College of Vicars therefore found it expedient to procure charters from Queen Elizabeth confirming them in their rights and properties. The charter granted to the Chapter is a most curious document, because it is evident that the Residentiaries took this opportunity to procure something like a legal confirmation of the usurpations by which the non-residentiary Canons were gradually cheated out of their rights and powers. The Queen refounds all the dignities and prebends, and endows them afresh with their old possessions. Then, as if the holders of these dignities and prebends did not form the Chapter, the Charter goes on to found the Chapter, as a body consisting of Residentiaries only, and to grant to them the cathedral church and other property. The deed winds up by saying that the non-residentiary Canons are to have votes in Chapter, but only for the purpose of electing a Bishop.[51] I do not profess to know what may be the legal force of such a document, though it certainly seems to me that nothing short of an Act of Parliament can take away from any man or any corporation any rights which they already legally enjoy. But whatever it may be worth, this charter is the authority for the practice by which at Wells the non-residentiary Canons are summoned to the election of a Bishop and not to other meetings of the Chapter, while at York they are still summoned to every meeting. I am not a lawyer and I do not speak as one. But historically the thing is a cheat and an usurpation. The Elizabethan charter carries its own contradiction with it; and, as an ecclesiastical reformer, I say once more that the point to be most strongly insisted on, if our cathedral bodies are ever again to fulfil their ancient uses, is to make both classes of Canons realities. The Residentiaries must be Residentiaries, living on the spot, not making the cathedral a place of holiday retirement from duties elsewhere. And lest the smaller body of Residentiaries should again sink into a narrow oligarchy, the whole body of Canons must be again restored to their ancient rights, not only in the formal election of a Bishop, but in all those matters of election, patronage, discipline, and business of every kind, which are expressed in the ancient formula of "a stall in the choir and a voice in the chapter-house."[52]

On the two following centuries I need not dwell. I will rather hasten on to our own times. The last great changes in the church of Wells come within our own memory. Those changes say a great deal for the zeal and energy of those who carried them out, but they say very little for their taste and knowledge. The pity is that they were done at the particular time when they were done, when it was quite possible to get detail well executed--and the detail certainly is very well executed--but when ecclesiastical arrangement was not understood. It would have been far better to have let the church remain in its old state, wretched as that state was, for twenty or thirty years longer. As it was, the change was made in one sense so badly as to make the whole thing a by-word, in another sense so well that I fear there is little chance of undoing it for a good while to come. Some things were done which were deeds of sheer havoc, deeds worthy of no one but of Protector Somerset himself. What had those Bishops done whose figures may be seen in the undercroft of the Chapter-house, that they should be torn away from their places and shut up as it were in a posthumous dungeon? What had our famous Beckington done that his canopy should be carried away, and set up where, as covering nothing, it is simply ridiculous and unmeaning? To be sure even that was not the lowest depth in store for the great benefactor. His canopy had yet to be mutilated and moved backwards and forwards in order the better to display the most hideous stoves with which human perversity ever disfigured an ancient building.[53] When we think of the havoc of last year, one is half inclined to forgive the havoc of twenty years back. Yet one cannot help asking why the long continuous ranges of stalls which give such dignity to the choirs of Winchester, Ely, and Manchester, were forsaken for the absurd arrangement which sticks the stalls piecemeal between the pillars, and which so lessens their numbers that, if the whole Chapter were ever to assemble, some less lucky Canons must sit on the laps of others?[54] Why was all this done? I know the answer well. It was to provide room for the congregation; it was thought a great feat to give a little more width to the choir, and so to gain a few more sittings, by putting the stalls between the pillars instead of in their proper place in front of them. Now to provide for the congregation is an excellent object, but the wisdom of our forefathers had already found ample room for the congregation in quite another way. Did those who planned the last arrangements of Wells Cathedral know that there was a nave, and, if they did know it, for what end did they suppose that that nave was built? A Bishop, coming in by the cloister door, might possibly never find out that there was a nave at all; but a Dean, coming in at the west end, must have seen that there was a good deal of building between that door and his own stall, and one would have thought that he must sometimes have stopped to think for what end that building was set up. Was that long array of arches, that soaring vault, made simply as a place for rubbing shoes before the service begins or for chattering after the service is ended? I think that Robert and Jocelin had better notions of the adaptation of means to ends than to rear so great a work for such small purposes. When the last changes were made at Wells, these elementary questions seem not to have presented themselves to men's minds. Had the work waited till now, Wells might not have been, as it now is, a reproach and a proverb among the minsters of England, but we might have held our place alongside of our fellows at Chichester and Hereford and Lichfield and Llandaff. The truth, simple as it is, though it seems so strange to many minds, is that the nave of a cathedral, no less than of any other church, is nothing in the world but the place for the congregation. There is something wonderful in the kind of difficulty which some people seem to have in taking in so plain a fact. It is a thing which I have said over and over again, and people stare and seem not to know what I mean. Yet I am not putting forth any dream of my own; I am saying what is a sober fact in many other places, and what might easily be made a sober fact at Wells also. I do not ask you to go to the ends of the earth; I do not ask you even to go to places like Ely and Durham in distant parts of our island. A short trip will take you to Llandaff, and a trip a little longer will take you to Hereford, and there you will see English cathedral churches as they ought to be, but as the church of Wells is not. Enter the church of Wells, you find yourself in a vast empty space; a solid wall in front of you, with an organ on the top of it, blocks off the small part of the church which alone is used for divine worship. Into that small part, designed originally for the clergy and choir only, the whole congregation is rammed, jammed, crammed without distinction; or rather there is distinction, and too much distinction, but it is distinction wholly of the wrong kind. Can the small space in which we find ourselves be the common church of the diocese, the church of the Bishop, the church of his flock? Alas! it looks far too much like the private chapel of some half-dozen clergymen and their private friends. Think too of the burning shame of appropriated seats in a cathedral choir. The gold ring and the goodly apparel soon find their way to the chief seats of the synagogue, while the poor man in vile raiment is bidden by an unconscious irony to go and further crowd up the space which should be left void to give dignity to the approach to God's altar. Is this the way to make the whole people of the diocese feel at home in the temple which was built for them? Is this the way to strengthen a Church which seems to shrink from proclaiming itself as the Church of the People, and which seems to clutch at the shadowy dignity of being the Church of the exclusive few? Ten arches of nave stand empty, and the worshipper seeking a place has to ask, "Is this or the other person likely to come to-day?" before the spot sacred to exclusiveness may be safely intruded on. Cross the Channel, and you will see another sight. Enter by the western door of the church of Llandaff, and right before your eyes stands the altar, raised aloft in fitting majesty. Below it, open to all eyes, is the Bishop on his throne, the clergy and singers in their stalls. The long nave is filled with the people, the faithful of the city and diocese. Nothing distinguishes worshippers of higher worldly position; nothing distinguishes the households of the dignitaries of the cathedral from their fellow Christians of lower degree. There is the church as it should be;[55] can we apply that name to our own church as it is? Here is the great reform; here is the one great work to be done. Make the church once more a church, before we trouble ourselves with the enrichments of the building. Make clean the inside of the cup and the platter, and the adornment of the outside may come afterwards.[56] Do not misunderstand me; do not think I am asking for the wretched half-and-half mockery which is called "service in the nave." We know what that means; we see it once or twice in the year; it means a return to chaos. It means a sham altar, sham stalls, sham everything. At the very times when an unusual number of the cathedral clergy are present, it is impossible for them to take their proper places, and they are driven higgledy-piggledy into the places of the congregation. What I want is service in the nave and in the choir at once. Then comes the answer, "Oh, but it is impossible; the screen is in the way." The remedy is easy; pull the screen down.[57] There are churches where so simple a remedy could not be so easily applied. In churches of the vast size of Canterbury, York, and Winchester, where also the screen is often a work of great antiquity and architectural beauty, there are no doubt real difficulties in the way of carrying out the scheme for which I am fighting. The close screen, shutting off the choir from the nave, was in its right place in a monastery, where the church really belonged to the monks, where the people were present only by sufferance, and where the monks needed some such shelter during their midnight worship. But in a cathedral church, which exists for the sake of the whole diocese, such screens were an abuse from the beginning, which ought never to have been brought in. Still we should think twice before we pulled down the ancient and splendid screens which divide the naves and choirs of some of our greater minsters. But at Wells there is no difficulty at all. The size of the church is moderate, and the screen is of no architectural value. Cut it down; why cumbereth it the ground? Break down the middle wall of partition that is against us, and let the people of the diocese of Wells again have their own church for their own. Did you not feel the lack at the last great ceremony held in this place, when our new Bishop came to take possession of his seat and to show himself as a father among his children? That ceremony, which in its very nature ought to have been done in the sight of the whole people of the diocese, could be done only in the sight of a favoured few. It was a very different sight which I saw two years back in the cathedral church of Bayeux. There I saw the installation of a new Bishop of that see,--a Bishop, I may add, who is at this moment bravely defending Gallican liberties against Roman usurpations. The rite was done in the face of the world, and the whole of that noble minster was thronged with clergy and laity from the west door to the high altar. Tell me not of impossibilities; what has been done at Lichfield and Hereford and Llandaff may be done at Wells also. I remember Llandaff a ruin; go and see for yourselves what it now is. I remember the choir of Lichfield in a far worse case than ever the choir of Wells was. I remember it blocked off from the nave, glazed and plastered, and room for the congregation found by throwing the Lady chapel into it. Go and see what the model church of England is now. "Oh, but, if we are in the nave, and if the altar is raised as it is at Llandaff, we shall not be able to see into the Lady chapel." Certainly you will not; but, of all the possible lawful and unlawful uses of a Lady chapel, that of acting as a peep-show to the choir certainly never came into the heads of its founders. But if you are not able to see the Lady chapel, you will be able to see something much better: you will be able to see what you never have seen; you will see the inside of the cathedral church itself. You will see the mighty whole, from west door to high altar, each part performing its proper function, and, as a mere view, affording a far nobler sight than the pretty peep into the eastern chapels which would be lost. And then comes another objection. "Oh, but if we are in the nave, we shall never be able to hear." _Solvitur audiendo._ If the officiating minister spouts or mumbles, of course you will not hear; if he chants as there is at least one among us who can chant, you might hear to the end of Saint Alban's Abbey. The light open screen, such as you see at Lichfield and Hereford, in no way hinders sight and hearing; and for those parts of the service for which chanting is unfit, for the sermon and the lessons, the preacher or reader would of course come out into the nave. The pulpit is ready for him, the lectern is ready for him, and the new device of a pulpit stuck so grotesquely opposite the Bishop's throne might, I should think, be swept away without anybody weeping for it. But from the elder pulpit, the quaint design of the seventeenth century, I will draw a lesson. It bears the legend, "Be instant in season, out of season," and instant in season, out of season, I will be, and let every one who thinks with me be also, till we have broken down the dull mass of prejudice and ignorance which stands in our way. We must work till we have given new life to what is not dead but only sleeping--till we have reformed our ancient institutions on their ancient principles--till we have swept away all traces of the days of greediness and ignorance--till pluralist Deans and non-resident Residentiaries have become things of the past--till the mother-church of the diocese has again become the church of the Bishop and the church of his flock, open to all, free to all, whose doors are never shut against any, and where every inch from western door to rood-screen stands ready for men not only to admire but to worship. Thus let us reform, lest others destroy. The true conservative is ever the true reformer, and the true reformer is ever the true conservative. If we would preserve the essence of our institutions, we must sweep away their abuses. And none of our institutions are nobler in their theory, none have more sadly fallen away in their practice, than our ancient cathedral churches. The Church of England is at this moment on her trial, and, above all her institutions, her cathedral foundations are pre-eminently on their trial. There never was a moment when a little more sleep and a little more slumber was less fitted to be the order of the day. Those who, with me, love and venerate those ancient fabrics and foundations, those who, by seeking their reformation, are thereby seeking their preservation, are bound to be up and doing. The work has begun; wherever there is a will, there is a way; many an ancient minster has put on a new garb, alike in its material fabric and in the worship carried on within it. Why should we lag behind our neighbours? Why should the mistakes of twenty years past be hung like a clog around our necks? Some needful reforms indeed could not be done without the legislative help, but it needs no Act of Parliament to make the nave of Wells Cathedral as truly a living thing, as truly a place of real and living worship, as the naves of Llandaff and Lichfield. A zeal not according to knowledge condemned us to the mischiefs of a restoration which was done too soon. Whenever zeal accompanied by knowledge appears in authority among us, as it has already appeared among others, the work will be done.

NOTES.

LECTURE I.

[1] "Domus eleemosynaria nobilis paupertatis" is the style of the Hospital of Saint Cross near Winchester, as enlarged by Cardinal Beaufort. See the Licence of Incorporation in the Monasticon, vii. 724.

[2] I refer to the debate in the House of Commons on the Scotch Reform Bill of 1868, when it was discussed whether Wells or Evesham should be disfranchised.

"Sir Lawrence Palk argued on behalf of Wells that it is 'a cathedral city of great antiquity.' This appeal on behalf of the seculars was at once met by the monastic zeal of Sir John Pakington, who daringly answered, that if Evesham 'cannot boast of a cathedral, it can of one of the most beautiful abbeys in England.' We should be sorry to suspect the good town of Evesham of any Anabaptist tendencies, but it is certain that, if it makes the boast which the member for Droitwich puts into its mouth, it belongs to the class of those who do falsely boast ... Mr. Gladstone had never been at Evesham; we know of no particular call of duty likely to take him there; but Sir John Pakington, a Worcestershire man, must surely have visited a borough in his own shire. How then about the beautiful abbey, one of the most beautiful in England? Any one who has been both at Wells and at Evesham must know that Wells Cathedral is still standing, while Evesham Abbey, saving its bell-tower and a small piece of wall, has long ceased to exist. But one might ask both disputants whether Sir Lawrence Palk, in his zeal for cathedrals, would enfranchise Ely and Saint David's--whether Sir John Pakington, in his zeal for abbeys, would restore Saint Alban's and enfranchise Romsey."--_Saturday Review_, July 11, 1868.

[3] This Lecture was given in the time between the election and installation of the present Bishop, Lord Arthur Hervey.

[4] In strictness the West-Saxon Bishoprick was first placed at Dorchester in Oxfordshire in 635, and the see was not finally settled at Winchester till 670. The time between these years was one of great confusion. See Bæda, Hist. Eccl. iii. 7. Florence of Worcester, i. 235. Stubbs, Registrum Sacrum Anglicanum, 161.

[5] See Bæda, v. 18, and the Chronicle A.D. 709. The first Bishop at Sherborne was Ealdhelm. See his life by William of Malmesbury in Wharton, Anglia Sacra, ii. 20.

[6] See Florence of Worcester, i. 236. Will. Malm. Gesta Regum, ii. 129. Gesta Pont. in Scriptores post Bædam, 144 _b_; Canonicus Wellensis in Anglia Sacra, i. 554; Stubbs, 13.

[7] In 710 Ine won a victory over the Cornish King Gerent; in 722 Taunton is spoken of as the town which Ine had built. This fixes the foundation of Taunton within that time. See the Chronicles under these years.

[8] On this whole matter, see Anglia Sacra, i. 553, and the Historiola de Primordiis Episcopatûs Somersetensis in Hunter's Ecclesiastical Documents, p. 10. The alleged charter of Cynewulf will be found in Kemble's Codex Diplomaticus, i. 141.

[9] Ceawlin conquered to the Axe in 577; Cenwealh to the Parret in 658; Ine, as we see, as far as Taunton. On Ceawlin see Dr. Guest in the Archæological Journal, xix. 193.

[10] That is, the modern shires of Monmouth and Glamorgan.

[11] This is shown in various passages of the Laws of Ine. See Thorpe's Laws and Institutes, i. 119, 131, 147, 149.

[12] See the whole history of the early church of Glastonbury in the first chapter of Professor Willis' Architectural History of Glastonbury Abbey.

[13] See Willis' Architectural History of Canterbury, p. 20; ditto Winchester, p. 34.

[14] It is not said in so many words that the church of Dunstan was of stone, but it is plain that it was so, both because the "lignea basilica" or wooden church is distinguished from it, and because Osbern the biographer of Dunstan (Anglia Sacra, ii. 100) speaks of him as laying the foundations, which could hardly be said of a wooden church.

[15] See the account of the Canons of Waltham in the book De Inventione, and those of Rheims in Richer, iii. 24.

[16] I have discussed this in full in my History of the Norman Conquest, ii. 571, Ed. 2.

[17] When a Bishop is to be elected by the Chapter, two quite distinct documents are sent; there is first the _congé d'élire_, which recognizes the undoubted right of the Chapter to elect and gives them full leave to elect, only with a little good advice as to the sort of person to be chosen. With this, as a kind of after-thought, comes the _letter missive_ or _letter recommendatory_, recommending a particular person for election.

[18] The names of the early Bishops, of whom but little is recorded, will be found in the Canon of Wells, Anglia Sacra, i. 556, and Godwin's Catalogue of English Bishops, 290.

[19] He was "natione Saxo," says his successor Gisa in the Historiola de Primordiis Episcopatûs Somersetensis. See Norman Conquest, ii. 583.

[20] See Godwin, p. 291.

[21] Anglia Sacra, i. 559.

[22] See Historiola, 15-18; Mr. J. R. Green in the Transactions of the Somersetshire Archæological and Natural History Society, 1863-4, p. 148; and Norman Conquest, ii. 674.

[23] For examples see Norman Conquest, ii. 549.

[24] See the writ, the only writ of Harold's which is preserved, in Kemble's Codex Diplomaticus, iv. 305.

[25] After mentioning Harold's promise, Gisa (Historiola, p. 18) adds, "præoccupante autem illum judicio divinæ ultionis," and goes on to speak of Harold's two battles and his death.

[26] Historiola, p. 19, "publice vivere et inhoneste mendicare necessariorum inopia antea coegerat."

[27] For the story of Hermann, see Norman Conquest, ii. 401.

[28] On these places see Historiola, pp. 18, 19. But it is as well to say that the well-known charter of Eadward to Gisa, printed in Cod. Dipl. iv. 162, is undoubtedly spurious, though it is useful as giving the names of places in the neighbourhood, in older, though not always their oldest, forms.

[29] The rule of Chrodegang will be found at length in D'Achery's Spicilegium, i. 565; and see Norman Conquest, ii. 84.

[30] This was about 969. Adalbero's changes are described at length by Richer, iii. 24, in Pertz's smaller collection.

[31] See Norman Conquest, ii. 84.

[32] In Domesday Book, pp. 89-89 _b_, the land of the canons is put under that of the Bishop; "Canonici Sancti Andreæ tenent de Episcopo." This is much the same with the Canons of Exeter in p. 101 _b_. In the Exon Domesday, (71) "Isaac præpositus Canonicorum Sancti Andreæ" is mentioned by name.

[33] Historiola, 21: "Sepultus est in ecclesiâ quam rexerat, in hemicyclo [a semicircle or round arch] facto in pariete a parte aquilonali prope altare, sicut Duduco prædecessor ejus sepultus est a meridie juxta altare."

[34] Will. Malms. Gest. Regg. iii. 300. "Pronunciatum est secundum dicta canonum ut episcopi transeuntes de villis constituerent sedes suas in urbibus dioecesium suarum." This was in 1072, but the change at Wells did not take place just yet.

In his other book, the Gesta Pontificum (144 _b_), he says that John "minoris gloriæ putans si in villâ resideret inglorius, transferre thronum in Bathoniam animo intendit."

[35] William of Malmesbury, in the place last quoted, says, "Cessit enim Andreas Simoni fratri, frater major minori."

[36] See the Chronicles under 577, and note 9.

[37] The charters are given in Dugdale's Monasticon, ii. 66, 67. In the second charter of Henry the First he speaks of "Batha ubi frater meus Willielmus et ego constituimus et confirmavimus sedem episcopatûs totius Summersetæ, quæ olim erat apud villam quæ dicitur Wella." The grant of the town which is confirmed in this charter of Henry is made in a charter of William Rufus on the same page.

[38] So says William of Malmesbury in the passage last quoted: "Aliquantum dure in monachos agebat, quod essent hebetes et ejus æstimatione barbari."

[39] The Historiola mentions the destruction of Gisa's buildings, and the Canon of Wells adds (Anglia Sacra, i. 560), "Fundum in quo prius habitabant sibi et suis successoribus usurpavit, palatiumque suum episcopale ibidem construxit."

[40] See Willis' Architectural History of Winchester, 34, 35.

[41] Historiola, p. 22. "Canonici foras ejecti coacti sunt cum populo communiter vivere."

[42] The story of Hildebert, John, and the Provostship is given both in the Historiola and by the Canon of Wells. Several letters discussing the matter appeared in the Gentleman's Magazine in the year 1864 in the numbers for February, July, August, September, October, November, and December, especially one by Mr. Stubbs in November.

That Hildebert was the brother of Bishop John appears from a charter of Bishop Robert (which I shall have to quote again) in the Monasticon, ii. 293, where Bishop John is called the uncle of Precentor Reginald.

[43] This comes afterwards in the Historiola, p. 24.

[44] The Canon (p. 560) says, "Licet ipse confractus senio inde poeniteret, tamen ædificia canonicorum destructa minime reparavit, nec fundum eis injuste ablatum restituit." But the Historiola seems to imply at least a purpose of restitution, as its words are, "Poenitentiâ ductus de sacrilegio perpetrato, resipuit et poenituit, et poenitentiam suam scriptam reliquit. Johannes vero Archidiaconus terras quas pater suus obtinuerat per hæreditatem et præposituram canonicorum nihilominus sibi usurpavit."

[45] The Charter is printed in the Monasticon, ii. 268.

LECTURE II.

[1] The Historiola and the Canon both call Godfrey simply "Teutonicus;" but it appears from the Continuator of Florence of Worcester (ii. 78) and from the Annals of Waverley (Ann. Mon. ii. 219) that he was Chancellor to Queen Adeliza. We can hardly doubt that he was one of her countrymen from the Netherlands.

[2] This account of him is given both by the Historiola and by the Canon (Angl. Sacr. i. 561), who gives as a reason for his mission to Glastonbury, "eo quod non recte eorum aratra incedebant." His birth comes from the Continuator of Florence (ii. 95), who says that he was "Flandrensis genere, sed natus in partibus Angliæ."

[3] Historiola, p. 25.

[4] See the agreement in Wharton's note, Anglia Sacra, i. 561.

[5] The Act is printed in the Monasticon, ii. 293.

[6] Historiola, p. 24: "Ipse ecclesiam Beati Petri Apostoli de Bathoniâ magnis c[=u] expensis construi fecit."

[7] Angl. Sacr. i. 561: "Complevit fabricam ecclesiæ Bathoniensis per Johannem Turonensem inchoatam." This seems to be confirmed by the words of John himself in the charter which I have already quoted (Monasticon, ii. 268), which is dated in 1116, and where he says that he sets aside the revenues of the city of Bath "ad perficiendum novum opus quod incepi."

[8] Historiola, p. 24: "Capitulum quoque et claustrum, dormitorium et refectorium et infirmatorium, nihilominus ædificari fecit."

[9] Historiola, p. 24. See above, p. 39.

[10] The Historiola (p. 25) mentions only the Deanery and Precentorship as founded by Robert. "Decanatum in ecclesiâ constituit, et Decanum et Præcentorem primos ordinavit." But the Canon (p. 561) says, "Ordinavit etiam in ecclesiâ Wellensi Decanum et Subdecanum, Præcentorem et Succentorem, Thesaurarium et Cancellarium, _quem vocavit Archiscolam_ in statutis ecclesiæ Wellensis, quæ ipse primus edidit omnium in eâdem." (Robert, the first to make the Chapter a distinct corporation, was naturally its first lawgiver.) He adds, "Tum Decanus, Subdecanus, etc. non habebant tunc temporis illa beneficia eis annexa, quæ eorum successores nunc habent in ecclesiâ antedictâ." But in the deed by which Bishop Robert founds the Deanery and divides the estates of the church into prebends (Monasticon, ii. 293), no dignitary is mentioned except the Dean and Precentor; and the church of Wookey, which afterwards belonged to the Sub-Dean, is specially mentioned as belonging to the Dean. This certainly looks as if Robert had founded the Deanery and Precentorship only. But, if they were not founded by Robert, they were founded by Jocelin, for the Canon says (564), "Jocelinus fundavit multas præbendas in ecclesiâ Wellensi de novo, dotavit etiam omnes dignitates, personatus, et officia dictæ ecclesiæ, in formâ adhuc durante."

The duties of the different officers of the church cannot be better described than they are by Bishop Godwin (p. 294): "He also it was that first constituted a Deane to be the President of the Chapter, and a Subdeane to supply his place in absence; a Chaunter to governe the quier, and a Subchaunter under him; a _Chauncellour to instruct the yoonger sort of Cannons_: and lastly a Treasurer to looke to the ornaments of the church." He adds, "The Subchauntership togither with the Provostship an. 1547. were taken away and suppressed by Act of Parliament, to patch up a Deanry, the lands and revenewes of the Deanry being devoured by sacrilegious cormorants."

[11] He did what he did "consilio et auxilio illustris Regis Stephani et venerabilis Episcopi Henrici," says the Historiola, p. 24.

[12] That is, in the churches of Bangor and Saint Asaph, and now in those of Saint David's and Llandaff. But, till the late changes, there were no Deans at Saint David's and Llandaff, beyond a vague tradition that the Bishop was Dean. At Saint David's the Precentor was President of the Chapter and at Llandaff the Archdeacon. The collegiate church of Southwell had no Dean or President under any title.

[13] A _sinecure_ is strictly an office _sine curâ animarum_, without cure of souls, not necessarily an office where there is nothing to do of any kind.

[14] See the quotation in note 10.

[15] I here alluded to the Theological College, where the offices of Principal and Vice-Principal are held by the Sub-Dean of the cathedral and another Canon, who are therefore really resident, but who are not admitted to any share in those rights and revenues which go to those nominal Residentiaries who stay away nine months in the year.

[16] _Beneficium_ is the word constantly used for a lay fief as well as for an ecclesiastical living. The most curious instance of this use will be found in the dispute between Pope Hadrian the Fourth and the Emperor Frederick Barbarossa. The Pope speaks of his coronation of the Emperor as a "beneficium" conferred on him. The German Bishops were very indignant, as if the Pope meant that the Empire was a fief of the Papacy. The Pope then explains that "beneficium" means both _benefit_ and _benefice_. He thought that he had done the Emperor a _benefit_ by crowning him, but he did not pretend to invest him with a _benefice_. See the History of Frederick by Otto (continued by Radevic) of Freisingen, ii. 15, 16, 22. Most likely the Pope used an ambiguous word on purpose.

[17] Compare the account in the Historiola, p. 24, with Robert's charter quoted above.

[18] See the Historiola, pp. 26, 27. The story begins in a marked way. "Quum ... deinceps, glorioso Rege Stephano decedente, Rex præpotens Henricus secundus regni gubernacula suscepisset."

[19] Domesday Book and the Codex Diplomaticus are full of such cases.

[20] His words (Monasticon, ii. 293) are: "Quum igitur ecclesiam Wellensem indebitis præposituræ oppressionibus supra modum afflictam invenimus et gravatam, communicato consilio archiepiscoporum, episcoporum, aliarumque religiosarum Angliæ personarum, exigentibus quoque ejusdem ecclesiæ canonicis, Decanum illic ordinavimus, concessis sibi dignitatibus, libertatibus, et consuetudinibus canonicis ecclesiarum Angliæ bene ordinatarum, et ne in eâdem ecclesiâ pristina tribulatio locum denuo vendicaret, possessiones et prædia quæ ad eam fidelium sunt donatione devoluta in præbendas taliter distribuimus." "Rogerus Witene," who must, one would think, have been one of the same stock, appears in the Exeter Domesday, p. 75, as a tenant of the Church of Glastonbury.

[21] See the letter of Bishop Rowland Lee to Lord Cromwell in the Monasticon, iii. 199. He prays that it might be "browghte to a college churche as Liche [Lichfield]."

[22] On this point, and on other points touching the relations of Bishops and Chapters, there was much disputing between Robert Grosseteste, the great Bishop of Lincoln, contemporary with our Jocelin, and his Canons. See on the Chapter's side, Matthew Paris, pp. 485, 522, 572; and, on the other, Robert's own letter to his Chapter in Mr. Luard's collection of his Letters, p. 357.

[23] The words of the Historiola, p. 24, are, "Porro non est oblivioni tradendum quod ecclesia Welliæ suo consilio fabricata est et auxilio." The Canon (561) says only, "Multas ruinas ejusdem ecclesiæ destructiones ejus in locis pluribus comminantes egregie reparavit."

[24] "Ecclesiam sedis meæ perspiciens esse mediocrem," he says in the Historiola, p. 16.

[25] The consecration and the presence of the three Bishops is mentioned both in the Historiola and by the Canon.

[26] William of Malmesbury, writing not very long before Robert's time, says of the church of Eadward at Westminster (ii. 228), "Quam ipse illo compositionis genere primus in Angliâ ædificaverat quod nunc pene cuncti sumptuosis æmulantur expensis." Matthew Paris (2), evidently copying this, alters the tense, because in his day another style of architecture had come in. His words are, "Quam ipse novo compositionis genere construxerat, a quâ post multi ecclesias construentes, exemplum adepti, opus illud expensis _æmulabantur_ sumptuosis."

[27] The Canon of Wells (Angl. Sacr. i. 562) says of him, "Multas præbendas in ecclesiâ Wellensi fundavit de novo, multaque alia bona fecit tam Bathoniensi quam Wellensi ecclesiis." He mentions also his gift of the manor of North Curry and other lands to the Chapter, and speaks of him as granting the first municipal rights to the citizens of Wells, a point which I must leave to Mr. Serel.

[28] See Mr. Stubbs' account of Savaric in the Gentleman's Magazine for November 1863, p. 621, and Mr. Green's notice in the Transactions of the Somersetshire Archæological and Natural History Society for 1863, p. 39.

[29] The whole history is given at length by Adam of Domersham, a monk of Glastonbury, in Anglia Sacra, i. 578.

[30] See Anglia Sacra, i. 579. The Dean was Alexander, the third Dean.

[31] See the disputes about the "advocatio" or "patronatus" of the Abbey in Anglia Sacra, i. 584, and the correspondence between Bishop Beckington and Abbot Frome, translated by Mr. George Williams in the Somersetshire Proceedings, 1863, p. 17. On the terms of the composition see pp. 564, 585.

[32] See Roger of Wendover, iii. 222.

[33] Anglia Sacra, i. 564. "Capellas etiam cum cameris de Welles et Woky notabiliter construxit." In the Palace at Wells, Jocelin's chapel has been reconstructed, and many buildings added by later Bishops, but the greater part of the house is still his. In Wookey Court, now a farmhouse and alienated from the see, only a single doorway, probably that of the chapel, remains of Jocelin's work, but it is in exactly the same style as the Palace and the West Front of the Cathedral.

[34] See Matthew Paris, p. 756, ed. Wats. He describes the earthquake as happening four days before Christmas, and says that he had the account of what happened at Wells from the Bishop himself. This must be William Button the First, who however could not have been at Wells at the time, as he was consecrated at Rome on June 14 in that year and did not come back to England till the next year. His account of the damage at Wells stands thus, "Tholus quoque lapideus magnæ quantitatis et ponderis, qui per diligentiam cæmentariorum in summitate ecclesiæ de Welles ponebatur, raptus de loco suo, non sine damno, super ecclesiam cecidit, et quum ab alto ruerit, tumultum reddens horribilem audientibus timorem incussit non minimum. In quo etiam terræ motu hoc accidit mirabile; caminorum, propugnaculorum, et columnarum capitella et summitates motæ sunt, bases vero et fundamenta nequaquam, quum contrarium naturaliter debuit evenire." Yet in the repairs of the nave of Wells, a greater change seems to have been made in the bases of the pillars than in their capitals.

[35] Matthew Paris gives the list, p. 522, Abingdon, Wells, Evesham, Gloucester, Tewkesbury, Winchcomb (?), Pershore, Alcester, "et multæ aliæ per regnum Angliæ."

[36] These were various works in the church and dormitory, done in the time of Abbot William, 1214-1235. Matthew Paris, in the _Gesta Abbatum_ (i. 280), after describing them, adds, "Quippe ista conquæstu et industriâ Ricardi de Thidenhangaer, monachi nostri conversi ac camerarii, sine obedientiæ suæ defectu vel diminutione, sunt perfecta: _quæ tamen Abbati ob reverentiam sunt adscribenda_. Ille enim facit, cujus auctoritate quippiam fieri dinoscitur."

[37] In the Historia Monasterii S. Petri Gloucestriæ (i. 29) we read, "Et anno Domini MCCXLII. completa est nova volta in navi ecclesiæ, non auxilio fabrorum ut primo, sed animosâ virtute monachorum item in ipso loco exsistentiam."

[38] See especially Gervase's account of the architects employed at Canterbury, William of Sens and William the Englishman; Willis, 35, 51.

[39] Mr. Serel gives me a reference to the Close Rolls of Henry the Third, October 3, 1225, in which "the King grants to the Bishop of Bath five marks towards the works in the church of Wells, the same payment to be continued for the eleven following years according to the King's gift."

[40] The extract is given in the Monasticon, ii. 278. It consists of a series of regulations touching the keeping open and shut of various doors. The door of which I speak is described as "magnum ostium ecclesiæ _sub campanili_ versus claustrum." This must mean the door in the transept, under the great central tower, rather than the door opening into the cloister from the south-western tower. But the existence of the cloister is proved by the mention of either, and it is equally odd to call either of them "magnum ostium ecclesiæ."

Another doorway in the cloister is also spoken of in the same document; "Ostium _versus capellam Beatæ Virginis in claustro_ propter cameram necessariam." This door, I imagine, may still be traced in the east walk of the cloister, near the remains of the Lady chapel in the cloister. This chapel must be carefully distinguished from the Lady chapel at the east end of the church. Mention is also made of "duo ostia _de la Karole_, ex utrâque parte chori," one of which is further described as "ostium _de la Karole versus librariam_." The word _Karole_ or _Carel_ has several meanings; but it generally implies a small recess or chamber of some kind. Were the books kept in one of the transepts?

Another mention of the Lady chapel in the cloister is found in Anglia Sacra, i. 566, when Bishop William Button the First, who died in 1264, is said to have buried "in novâ capellâ B. Mariæ Virginis." On this Professor Willis (Somersetshire Proceedings, 1863, p. 21) remarks: "As his chantry was in the 'Capella B. Virginis infra claustrum' (Liber B, p. 62), the above passage does not apply to any Lady chapel at the east of the cathedral, but to the building of the other Lady chapel, which was in the east walk of the cloister in the position usually given to a chapter-house." By "usually" the Professor must mean in monastic foundations. "Liber B" is one of the books in possession of the Chapter.

[41] See the extract in note 10.

[42] The whole passage (pp. 65, 66) is most remarkable. The writer is inveighing against Hugh, Bishop of Chester (or Lichfield), who had removed the monks from the church of Coventry, and put in secular canons. "Ædificaverant certatim etiam absentes canonici circa ecclesiam ampla et excelsa diversoria, ad usus forte proprios, si vel semel in vitâ locum visitandi caussam casus offerret. Nullus ibi ex præbendariis, sicut nec alibi faciunt, religiose resedit, sed pauperibus vicariis ad insultandum Deo modicâ mercede conductis, pro foribus palatiorum facientes magnalia, sanctum eis chorum victosque Penates et nudos ecclesiæ parietes crediderunt. Hæc est vere vera religio, hanc omnis imitari et æmulari deberet ecclesia. Canonico sæculari ab ecclesiâ suâ, quamdiu libuerit, licebit abesse, et patrimonium Christi ubi, et quando, et in quascumque voluerit voluptates absumere. Id tantum provideant, ut audiatur vociferatio frequens in domo Domini. Si ad fores talium pulsaverit advena, si pauper clamaverit, respondebit qui pro foribus habitat, (et ipse satis pauper vicarius,) 'Transite, et alibi alimoniam quærite, quia dominus domûs domi non est.' Hæc est illa gloriosa clericorum religio, cujus gratiâ Cestrensis episcopus monachos suos de Coventreiâ expulit, primus hominum tantum nefas ausus admittere. Caussâ clericorum irregulariter regularium, scilicet canonicorum, ad placitum monachos eliminavit; monachos, qui non vicario, sed ore proprio laudabant Dominum, qui habitabant et ambulabant in domo Domini cum consensu omnibus diebus vitæ suæ, qui præter victum et vestitum nihil terrenum noverant, quorum panis semper præsto fuit pauperi, quorum porta cuilibet viatori quolibet tempore patuit: nec tamen taliter placuerunt episcopo, qui numquam dilexit monachos vel monachatum."

[43] The account is given by William Fitz-Stephen, Giles, i. 257. The officiating priest is described as "quidam vicarius, Vitalis nomine, homo timoratus et honestus sacerdos." Berengar, the Archbishop's emissary, addresses him, "Non est his hujus sedis Episcopus, sed neque Decanus: video te hic ministrum Jesu Christi."

[44] Angl. Sac. i. 564: "Vicarios in ecclesiâ singulis Præbendariis ordinavit, tribus exceptis quibus non provisit morte præventus."